


Between the Lines

by AVirtoMusae



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 5 + 1 Things, Angst, Books, Canon compliment, Embarrased!Renly, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Heavily implied masturbation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Most of it is cute and fluff nonetheless, Reading, Secret Geek!Renly, Siege of Storm's End, Stannis was a good brother once, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 17:39:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4358303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AVirtoMusae/pseuds/AVirtoMusae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Renly secretly likes reading. Five times someone encounters him reading, and the one time someone reads what he wrote.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between the Lines

_i._

Imagination is his strong suit, and it always has been. Even at the age of Six, he has to be one of the most creative people in Storm’s End if he isn’t, indeed, the most creative. Sometimes, that scares Renly more than anything else.

He walks by a vat of boiling oil, and all he can think about is what if it were him who it was all dumped on? How much would it hurt? How would it sound as it hit his skin? Six-year-old Renly shudders and walks on, to where windows are boarded, and all Renly can think about is an arrow somehow getting through.

Yes, imagination is definitely some sort of curse.

He can pretend he’s king or a dragon-rider or a god all he wants, but that can’t take away the screams of the dead and dying and the lingering stench and the gnawing hunger.

It doesn’t even help him when he thinks about those men outside and how he could be feasting with them, how they should be giving him food.

So often, he hides in his room because what else is there to do? He’d had a cat before all this. He’d named him Flori. That cat had followed him everywhere and had its own brand of feline sass, but when the siege had begun, Stannis had taken that little cat from him and made him eat it. Now, he is pretty sure that he has just about nothing.

But that cat had been his source of comfort. He could talk to it, and the cat was the only one who would listen to him, so Renly had told Flori of what was happening as best as Six-year-old him could understand.

Now, Renly is sure that he has nothing except fear and wondering when he’ll die because that certainly will happen.

Tears streaming down his face, he tries a new hiding spot, the castle archive. There are books here, so many books. Renly’d never really read anything, being Six, but he figured he could try. Everything else is crumbling to dust, and maybe, reading a book can help him. Renly tells himself this, but he does not truly believe it. He picks up a book anyway. 

It’s called _Historical Sieges_. Renly reads it as quickly as he can -- which is not fast at all. It’s a dense text and fairly dry, and Renly is only Six. He’s on a siege from the War of the Ninepenny Kings when Stannis walks into the library looking for him.

“There you are.” Stannis sounds almost relieved, but a large part of Renly doubts it’s real. Stannis doesn’t pay attention to him, not really. He’s too busy with the siege. And he’s just so . . . unemotional so much of the time. Renly doubts that he means much to his brother, but the worry in his voice makes him hope.

Renly tries to hide the book behind his back, but Stannis just looks at him skeptically. Renly’s ears turn pink. 

“What are you reading?” Stannis asks, sounding actually interested. 

Renly looks nervously up at him. “A book on sieges.”

Stannis nods, and Renly thinks he can see something akin to approval in his brother’s eyes. “And you’ve read all of it up to there.” 

Renly hesitates before nodding. Then, quietly, he asks, “Are you going to surrender?”

“I spit at Tyrells and Redwynes,” Stannis hisses, “I will never give up, never surrender. Not to them. Not ever.”

Renly bites his lip. “So we’re going to die?”

“Where did you get that idea, little brother?” Stannis asks with an amused chuckle. He ruffles Renly’s hair despite the boy’s indignant look. Renly then methodically fixes his hair back up.

Then he looks up at Stannis, fear visible in his eyes. “The ones who don’t surrender end up dead. They don’t win, not really, not ever.”

Stannis then does something very un-Stannis-like. He pulls Renly into a hug, and the younger boy cries into his chest for the first time since he realized that he didn’t have parents. “We will win,” Stannis whispers to him. 

Renly can tell that Stannis isn’t even sure in that fact, but Renly lets it comfort him anyway.

_ii._

Renly is eight now, and he is reading a book regarding his eldest brother’s rebellion. Renly would be lying if he said he doesn’t find the entire thing bloody hilarious. He does find it _bloody hilarious_. Truly, it is amazing how far the author, some Maester fresh from the Citadel, goes to such lengths to manipulate the events to paint Robert and all his allies in such a good light. 

As far as he knows, Stannis is the only one who knows that he likes to read. Even Maester Cressen, whom he looks to as almost a father, doesn’t know, and Renly trusts him more than Stannis. He pretends to hate his lessons with the Maester, protesting that, “Learning’s for maesters,” and “What am I even supposed to do with this?”

Renly’s hiding in one of his favorite spots which he could only get to by going all the way up to the window near the top of a tower and then climbing down on the rough stones so that he could perch on a ledge from which he could look at the entire courtyard. It lets him look out at everyone else without anyone really ever noticing him. Sure, maybe a couple guards see him there sometimes or even Maester Cressen that one time, but besides his rooms, it’s the most private place in Storm’s End for him.

He nearly falls off his ledge laughing just as Maester Cressen is passing from the doorway beneath him into the courtyard. Incidentally, Renly accidentally drops his book at that very moment. Maester Cressen grumbles under his breath and rubs the top of his head before picking up the book. “Where?” 

For a second, Renly thinks that the Maester isn’t going to figure it out, but then he looks up. “Renly?”

“Umm,” Renly manages before he starts trying to scrabble back up the wall.

“Renly!” Maester Cressen calls to him. 

Renly finally decides to stop. He’s only made it a few feet anyway and climbs back down to his ledge and then works his way the ten feet down from there. “Maester?”

“You were reading this?” Maester Cressen asks him.

Renly’s cheeks turn pink, and his ears turn scarlet. “Obviously not. I don’t read. Reading is for Maesters, and I’m second in line for the throne. I was bored. And it’s too hot to play games.”

“Of course, Renly,” Maester Cressen says in the most patronizing tone imaginable. It makes Renly want to just disappear. 

“Honest,” Renly protests.

Later, Renly finds the book he was reading earlier placed on his bed along with a new book about the songs. Renly doesn’t know if he’s ever felt happier about being embarrassed. 

_iii._

Renly is fourteen, and any day now, he is supposed to be receiving his new squire. Renly shivers. He doesn’t know if he wants to have a squire or not. Yes, he wants the boy there because he will be the closest person to his age he’ll know. Maybe this new squire would even be his friend. Renly wants a friend more than anything else.

But still, he’s so nervous he doesn’t even know what to do. For starters, the boy is a _Tyrell_ , from the family that trapped him in a castle with very little food for over a year. He shudders even though he knows it’s not the boy’s fault. The boy wasn’t around then, and it isn’t his fault. Still, he feels nervous about it.

And then, of course, if this boy is as martial as everyone keeps suggesting, then that’s bloody terrifying too. Renly has only pretended not to like his studies. Renly is not pretending when he says he hates fighting. And blood. And war. It could be a problem.

And then what if the boy discovered that Renly didn’t even want to be with a woman? Would he judge Renly? Hate him? Fear him? And would he look down on Renly for his love of the songs and fine clothes?

Renly groans and runs a hand through his hair. Thinking is getting him nowhere. If anything, it just keeps making him more and more agitated. He sighs and flops down on his bed. He needs to stop thinking. Yes, imagination is good and all that, but sometimes, Renly wishes that he had less of it.

He sighs and pulls a book out from where he left it on his nightstand. It’s an older tome, written for a Targaryen king almost a century previous, but Renly finds it informative as it details the past and thoughts of the future. He reads, and slowly, he feels less and less stressed.

He doesn’t notice when his housekeeper, Brella, slips in to start a fire in the fireplace. “Milord?” she asks upon seeing him with the book. “I didn’t know you liked reading?”

“I don’t,” Renly protests instantly, but his ears turn pink where they’re poking out from beneath his long hair. 

Brella nods at the book in his hands. “Then why’re you reading that there?”

“Reading,” Renly says primly, “is for Maesters. Penrose is making me read this.”

“Indeed. Well, milord, I’ll just be starting the fire and you can be getting back to your book, yes?” Brella says with a fond smile. Renly’s blush spreads to his cheeks.

Brella moves to the fireplace, and Renly watches her start the fire, still tingling with embarrassment. “Umm, Brella?”

“Yes?”

“Please don’t tell Robert about this. Or Stannis. Or my new squire,” Renly begged, becoming more embarrassed by how desperate he sounds. Stannis liked his reading, but Stannis thought him a frivolous fool and resented him ever since Robert had given him Storm’s End. Robert would think Renly was either becoming a Maester, a woman, or a eunuch. And well, he doesn’t want his squire thinking ill of him so early.

“Blind, deaf, and dumb, milord,” Brella tells him.

Renly nods, smiling gratefully. “Thanks, Brella.”

_iv._

Renly is hiding in a tavern in the middle of King’s Landing. He is very out of place, especially in his clothes. His tastes have only grown finer since he was little, and now, at sixteen, he is renowned as the best-dressed lord in King’s Landing (if someone could actually get him to stay there). So in a peasant's tavern is a very strange place for him to be.

But it is the only place he can get to be alone. He just doesn’t want anyone to see that he’s reading. It would be detrimental to his reputation. He hasn’t even told Loras that he enjoys reading, and Loras is closer to him than anyone else ever has been. The few times Loras has caught him reading, Renly’s been able to pass it off as being essential, necessary for his position. He’s surprised Loras still believes him, honestly.

He’s just letting himself get sucked into that book Maester Cressen had given him all those years ago. He doesn’t recognize Lord Tyrion’s voice until the man is right in front of him.

“Lord Renly.”

Renly nearly drops the book in surprise. He knows now not to be shocked or horrified by Lord Tyrion even though the next most homely person he’d met is Brienne of tarth, and she’s far better looking than he. 

“Lord Tyrion. Greetings.”

“Don’t sound so pleased,” Lord Tyrion says dryly. 

Renly flushes. As if he weren’t so embarrassed already for being caught with a book, now he had his hesitation in greeting, too. “What do you want?”

“Nothing,” Lord Tyrion answers, “Except maybe some Dornish red.”

Renly laughs. “Then you’ve come to the wrong place.”

Lord Tyrion laughs in return. “To cheap ale then, Lord Renly.” He holds up his cup, expecting to clink it with Renly. Renly can hardly not return it, so he hides the book as surreptitiously as he can manage as he does so. To Renly’s dismay, Lord Tyrion does not fail to notice. “Which book is that?”

“Laws,” Renly responds. It’s not a lie. “My brother has mentioned that he wishes for me to be on his Small Council, and this is how I shall decide if I’ll oblige him. Presently I’m thinking not.” A lie, naturally. He wants the power that will come with it, and laws, he thinks, are not too terribly dull.

Lord Tyrion snorts. “Keep that up and you’ll be smarter than them all. Maybe you’d even make a halfway decent king.”

“I’m fourth in line. That will never happen.”

“Indeed. Now, excuse me, I am going to go find a decent cunt.”

Renly watches him leave with bated breath, and when he is gone, he picks up his book and walks back to Maegor’s Holdfast. He’ll find a better hiding spot to read this later.

_v._

Renly is seventeen when he and Loras return to Storm’s End. He’s probably going to have to knight Loras soon, and that’s a scary thought. Despite Renly’s initial hesitations about having a squire, Renly and Loras have become fast friends. Well, fast friends, but Renly sincerely wishes that they were something a little more. 

Gods, it’s so hard to do anything these days without getting hard, Renly’s found, because he’s always with Loras. Who knew having a crush on one’s squire was such a difficult thing to deal with? Probably everyone, he has to admit, and that now included his very sexually frustrated self.

Loras is just so sensual. He flirts with everyone too, Renly being absolutely no exception. And he is just so pretty (though he insists he’s handsome) that all of it combined. Well, how could Renly not need to relieve his Loras-related frustration somehow?

This is also why Renly is now hiding in his bedchamber with his book detailing feats that would horrify most of the Westerosi population. Well, most of it. There were certain things Renly did while reading it and looking at all the illustrations that were most definitely done not of horror.

Renly moaned, not looking away from the illustration of two men, doing, _things_. And it is because of this that he fails to notice Loras barging into his chambers, still wet from his bath.

“Renly? Are you all right? I heard this really loud --” Loras trails off as he sees exactly what Renly is up to. He promptly flushes. As if he weren’t attractive enough already, Renly thinks, before flushing an even deeper fuchsia. “Oh.”

Renly wants to die from embarrassment. “Yeah, oh,” he repeats, looking nervously at Loras’s feet. And he’d almost been finished too. And it is because of his embarrassment that he fails to notice the look of lust on Loras’s face and traces of it elsewhere. 

“What book can possibly be this interesting?” Loras asks, and Renly has no idea what to think when his squire comes over and sits next to him. And to make it worse, Loras puts his hand on Renly’s thigh. Renly shivers, and his skin tingles beneath Loras’s hand. He is hyper aware of Loras’s every movement now, more than is likely at all advisable. 

Renly evaluates his options, which then results in his shutting the book. Or attempting to. Loras catches the book before it can close and begins reading the passage before just pausing and just staring at the image, gaping. 

“Well,” he manages eventually, his cheeks now matching Renly’s. “Interesting.” He places a hand on Renly’s jaw and tilts his head so that Renly is forced to look Loras in the eyes. “So would it be okay if I did this?” he asks before leaning in to capture Renly’s lips in a kiss.

There is very little talking for the rest of the night.

_+i._

Loras can feel the tears dripping from his cheeks no matter how much he wants them to stop. He doesn’t want them to flow from his eyes to his cheekbones and then drip onto this. Loras can scarcely hold back another sob, and he hugs his knees to his chest.

“I’m so sorry, Ren. So sorry,” he manages through the sobs. 

Renly had been buried for a month. Loras can still remember the rage, that pain, that soul-shattering strike, Renly’s death gave him. It still aches. This, what Loras holds in his hands, is the last thing he can have of Renly’s. Even Renly’s armor is gone, given to his brother to wear in the battle on the morrow. Loras tried so hard to wear that armor, to don the title of Renly’s Ghost. Renly had been so much taller than he, so much broader, and there was nothing Loras could do, can do, to change that. Garlan and Margaery had scarce been able to tear him from that suit of armor.

This not even his siblings can take from him, and Loras knows that this is more important than that suit of armor that Renly scace wanted cause to wear. This is the soul of Renly, his life’s work. It’s a book. 

Loras can remember when Renly wrote this book. Renly had been so adamant that Loras not see it until it was done even though Loras had lounged in bed next to him as he’d written. Loras had even done a fairly decent job of distracting his lover from it, too. 

Now, Loras wishes that he’d let Renly write more of it because now he sees that it is their story, his and Renly’s. Renly uses different names, different places, but the heart of the story is theirs, theirs in a world where Robert never died, where Renly had never become king, a world where Renly had not been assassinated on the eve of battle. And now he’s read it all, and he can scarcely bear the happy ending because he is living how wrongly it all went.

Loras sets the book down, sobbing openly now. It is only an hour later that his sobs die, that he can’t form another tear, that he notices the piece of parchment resting in the dirt. Loras picks it up hesitantly as if it might crumble in his fingers.

> _Loras,_
> 
> _If you’re reading this, then I am most likely dead or you’re snooping where you’re not meant to be. Thinking about it, I really can’t be sure which it is because Seven Hells you definitely like snooping where you’re not meant to. And people say your sister takes more after your grandmother than you do!_

Loras laughs, despite the tears still dripping down his cheeks. He can’t believe he’s reading something Renly wrote to him. It’s almost like having Renly’s mind back with him for just these few moments.

> _There is so much I would love to tell you that I likely never have. I wanted to have forever with you, forever like I wrote it. But as I’m writing this to you, I already know that will never happen. My brother is dead. Gods, how did that even happen? Growing up he was practically a god himself. How can he have just ended like that?_
> 
> _I don’t know what the circumstances around my demise ultimately were -- I can’t write you a letter from beyond the grave, can I? I mean, that would be interesting. Even Janos Slynt couldn’t fuck up when finding murderers. The dead really should be able to communicate with the living. Life would be so much easier to bear._
> 
> _I guess I ought to hit the meat of this letter at some point. Even I can only avoid it so long, right? That’s something. Anyway, Loras. I guess I just want to have some way that I can tell you that I love you, that I have always loved you, and that even now I still love you, and that I always will love you. I can never say that enough._
> 
> _Live for me, Loras. Please do that for me. Live the life I’ll never be able to have now. I will be with you always. If you ever do move on, it will be with my blessing. Please know that people love you too, and that whatever happened, it was never your fault._
> 
> _Love, with more love than can be written in ink on parchment,  
>  Your Renly Baratheon_

Loras can’t stop crying again and tucks the letter into the book. He collapses on the cot in his tent and hugs his pillow. Dawn rises before Loras’s tears subside. Today, he tells himself, he fights for Renly. He will always fight for Renly. Love may be lost to him, but Loras will still fight in its name, and never, by word or deed, shall he betray Renly. He will be Renly’s, and one day, he forces himself to believe, they will be together again. 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, feedback is appreciated and loved! 
> 
> I should have something more up for Meet the Family later today or at some point tomorrow.
>
>> A Virto Musae  
> By the Virtue of the Muse


End file.
